Priapus, with his god’s virility,
With woman’s breads that passionately rise,
His eyes convulsed with sinister irony,
His mouth that laughs, sinister as his eyes;
Hair wild and wanton, tipped with the ivory
Of the moon’s crescent out of sunless skies;
Garlands of leaves and roses furiously
Around his body in disorder twine;
The candlesticks emit a shaken flame;
A mad boy kneels, a Cupid, with peacock wings,
Laughs like Priapus; a monstrous Thing, malign,
Glides in the air. Which is it shakes with sharne?
Catullus to his infamous Lesbia sings.
(Arthur Symons)
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